Brazen Exiles
by Crowsister
Summary: A girl with nothing to lose is thrown from one conflict into a whole new mess that she wasn't even expecting. Human Darksiders AU. Contains OC and teenage shenanigans.
1. Curiosity Killed the Cat

Look, you better listen. Because I'm only going to say this once.

The view from the bridge that day was rather nice. Nice golden sunsets are always a plus side to a day, but this one honestly seemed like a rope that was a bit too short to pull me out of the hole I dug myself into. The wind was fierce and flew in gusts around me as I stood on the 776 feet tall Golden Gate Bridge. Well, it was 776 feet if one went from water to top, rather than road to top. They never really paid that much attention to that measurement – sort of like how nobody paid attention to me when I was hurting from neglect and an abusive father. They would have probably pay attention to both if I committed suicide, probably to write some sob story of a news article that no one was going to read because they didn't care about me – some 17 year old girl named Eve Bain.

Sweet Jesus, with how I saw the world before I got moved to Wildeden, it's no wonder I wanted to die.

Quite honestly, I think the police and people that were below me were there more because they were scared to watch someone die than because they cared about me individually. Sure they spurted some "You deserve to live" nonsense up at me through boom-phones, which only made me angrier at the world. Looking back, I don't even know the reason why it made me angry. I was a directionless ball of angry, topped with dirty blonde hair and armed with what I liked to think were the sharpest pair of brown eyes the world had seen. But all that didn't matter up there. I could just jump and everything wouldn't matter anymore. Afterlife, Heaven, Hell – to me, it didn't matter.

But I never got my chance to die. At least, not die that day.

A police officer, some hotshot who didn't follow his superiors' orders very well, stripped a nearby jet-punk of his jetpack and started to fly up. I had closed my eyes and let the world around me blur with the speed I was falling at. Every little worry I had slipped through my mind and soul like little grains of sand, lost in the wind gusting around me. It was bliss, letting go of everything.

Then it all came back to me when that brave asshole caught me. He held me bridal style, like I was some damsel he'd just saved from a particularly nasty dragon. Too bad that those two were one and the same in this case.

"What the fuck?! You asshole, I was done. I was finished. WHY THE FUCK DID YOU SAVE ME?!" I snarled, squirming in his hold. He didn't answer me though. Just held me and smiled to the cameras. He kept doing the show-dog routine until he handed me to the paramedics, who gave me a shock blanket. It was a nice red color, like that of a slowly burning sunrise. I still have the damn thing in my room, spread out on my bed. The paramedics drove me down to the hospital where they checked me over like I had bullet wounds in my stomach. All I did was jump from a 776 foot bridge support, not get shot in a war.

Then he came. He being Samuel Prince, owner of Black Stone Enterprises (a leading weapons company, in case you didn't know. Prince is worth at least a few battleships' weight in precious metals/chemicals). He made me sick to my stomach, the way he carried himself. He didn't own this hospital – maybe the 40,000 or so other ones across the country, but not this one. His hair was gelled back, looking a bit like demonic horns. But maybe that was me being negative again. His eyes, yellow like an empty beer bottle, held the same look that a little kid got when he found some trading card that could trump his friends' pieces of paper. "I suppose it would be stupid to ask if you're feeling alright, Ms. Bain," he replied in this accent. Sounded old, maybe European. Maybe the disgusting lovechild of a British accent and an African one.

"Bull's eye, sir," I replied quietly, turning to look at him as he interrupted my glare to God via the ceiling. That's when I got a good look at him to get his looks all described in my brain, put down to memory. Scumbag or not, Prince was a money-naire – you know what I'm saying?

He hummed, stroking that stupid little goatee he had – made him look like the Devil in those old, cheesy cartoons. His demon horn hair didn't help any. "Perhaps a change of scenery would help you…the doctors are already making arrangements to send you to a little asylum down in Florida for you to be properly monitored and cared for. But we both know that's not what you want."

"Sir, with all due respect," I replied, "We just met. I don't think you even know what I want."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong. You see, I was once like you – angry at the world, no use for the anger. But I can give you that use…if you'll let me. I'll pay for you to get away from your father, to get away from all the little children at your school who don't understand. All you have to do is one thing."

"There's always a catch."

"It's business, dear, that's how business works. Now, you see, my four stepchildren went missing some time ago. However, I recently found them in Wildeden, Iowa. If you could keep an eye on them for me and my wife, I would so appreciate it."

God, his voice made his sickening aura worse. Guy wasn't bad looking – not attractive, but not ugly either. Just…something about him felt wrong. But…I didn't see any other option. If I didn't go through with his, I probably would've been driven nuts in an environment where I never got a choice for anything that truly mattered.

I sighed, looking back at the ceiling, "I'll do it. You arrange everything – a house, furniture, all the necessities I'll need to fit in – and I'll do it, Mr. Prince."


	2. Into the Wild

And that's how I got talked into moving an entire 4 or so states over to Wildeden, Iowa. As you know, it's a little town in the middle of nowhere. Over half of Iowa is actually uninhabited. Wildeden is somewhere near the center of Iowa – the latitude and shit escapes me.

Prince set me up with a one story house. It was on the outskirts of the little town, painted this really nice wine red color. The color didn't surprise me at all - big money-naire like Prince probably drank wine like water. The house had the bedroom in the back, bathroom connected to the bedroom and the hallway, kitchen/dining area, etc. It was a normal house, nothing too fancy in it. One of his people probably picked it out using one of Prince's favorite color palettes or something because everything was some form of red, white, or black.

When I walked into the dining room, finding a black backpack on the table. Brand new - crisp and clean as one of Prince's suits, I'd reckon. I sat down at the table, unzipping it slowly in case there was anything out of the ordinary in it. I slowly started to pull items out of it, laying them on the table. A binder of papers (legal documents and the like), a new iPhone and some earbuds, and an envelope.

I opened the envelope, curious. Inside was a plastic credit card and a folded up papers. The first was a letter, which read:

"_Ms. Bain, _

_I was thrilled to hear you agree to our business arrangement. I trust that I have given you a suitable foundation to your new life in Wildeden. I have left you this credit card to purchase what you need, though I would advise that you obtain a job for the sake of a normal appearance. My stepchildren are rather...paranoid. Step carefully with them in order to gain their trust._

_They have no friends beyond themselves. They trust very few people. Approach with caution. I advise you to throw this letter into the fire and to keep the attached dossiers as scanned documents only. They are thorough when they investigate - if you give them any reason to be suspicious, you must have your tracks hidden before you make them._

_I hope you can do this._

_From the desk of Samuel Prince"_

I flipped the credit card between my fingers and hummed. A smirk spread across my lips as I muttered to myself, "Shopping time."

Finding the shopping center was like finding a yellow elephant in a blue room. The shopping center was obviously new, the architecture screamed as much. All the houses, the roads, the buildings - they were all comfortably old-fashioned.

Walking through town, I could feel the curious stares of the local people. I expected it - small town like this probably never got any new people (tourists or residents). I probably looked like some hovercycle gang reject with my leather jacket and jeans. Hair probably didn't help any, with all its fohawk-ness. I walked through, feeling like I was a tank rolling through a Middle Eastern village with the stares I was getting. I was a scary-looking thing and the people saw me as a foreign threat, analyzing me and trying to pick me apart.

I walked into the shopping center and had a guy thrown at me. In hindsight, it was the best thing that had ever happened to me.

The guy was fourteen. He was growling like a dog that just got hosed down, his blonde-white hair sticking up like he was raising his hackles. He was clad in a grey and red sweatshirt with jeans. His knuckles were bleeding through the boxing tape he had wrapped around them.

Three larger guys were running at us. I picked the blonde guy up over my shoulder, surveying the center. Fighting against the door would be a dumbass idea. Glass could break and cause gnarly injuries, but being close by the door would leave us open to cops. So we needed to pick up our asses and move - little fireball wasn't going to and the big guys would like the advantage of location.

"Put me down! I don't need your help!" protested my cargo, squirming, "This is my fight and I'm not running away!"

I replied drily, "Not running away, big guy. Just repositioning." I saw the opening I needed - the center had a main plaza. To the side, there was a perfect spot for a two-on-three fist fight. I needed this fight. I sped ahead, placing him down roughly. He stumbled, but stood back up. He glared at me with fiery blue eyes. I only smirked, "I'm new in town. I need a fight. Not doing you a favor, just some good old teenage aggression."

"Whatever. Make enemies, I don't care. Just don't get in my way," the short, blonde fireball replied, rolling his eyes. The pursuers caught up with us and leapt at us. I dodged mine, landing a right hook on his jaw. Didn't slow him down enough, so I planted a left hook in his gut and kicked his knee. Oh those years of street fighting were paying off now.

He landed a blow on my thigh as he fell over, causing me a prickle of pain. Shook it off like a fly and threw a right hook to his spine, right between the shoulder. My hook accelerated his fall to gravity, smacking him down on the cream tile. He groaned, his eyes closing. I kept my foot on his back to keep him down, looking over to the little fireball.

The nickname is entirely appropriate for him. He had rage and passion in his movements, jabbing and crossing like a professional kickboxer. I almost winced in sympathy for the guy Fireball was fighting - the crack of knuckles sounding through the air made it sound like Fireball was smacking a sword to a piece of metal. Guy #1 falls. Fireball - 1, Guys - 0. One guy left standing and he looks like he's going to pee his pants. Fireball growled and the guy bolted, giving his team a total of -1 points. I clapped, smirking. I took my foot off my fallen opponent and walked over to Fireball.

"Eve."

"Wayne."

"Can I safely assume that I'm not going to get an explanation for why they were trying to pummel you into the ground?" I asked, watching his face. Wayne's face was pretty much a mask of anger and frustration, hard lines set into a tan marble face. Didn't have time to look then, but during my stay in Wildeden, I got to see Wayne's little scars across his face - it was like he got in a fight with Despereaux the mouse and lost. That thought never fails to bring a smile to my face.

He grunted in reply, studying me with those light blue eyes. Almost pure white they were, but if the light hits them right they're blue. I met his gaze evenly, replying, "Pictures last longer, bub."

"Why did you step in?" he asked finally, the hard lines on his face just getting solidified as he frowned at me, "You don't know me and you haven't been here long enough to want favors. Talk."

"Truth? I like to think of myself as a girl of honor. Shit, that sounds like I'm constantly in weddings, which for the record is false. I just thought that looked unfair, three guys against one. I didn't know that you were a little fireball - you sort of look like a really angry skater, could've been skin and bones from all I can see," I replied, "I like to stick up for those who can't do it for themselves."

That seemed to satisfy him enough to take those piercing eyes off me. He started to walk away,

"Then know that I can fight my own battles, _Eve_." I let him go. He wasn't the friendliest critter and he didn't want to be around anymore. You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink.

The rest of my trip to the shopping center was relatively fast, mostly because I wanted to get home before the security guards checked the footage. Just grabbed food, coffee, tea, and clothes - then scurried home like the racoon I am.

That was Sunday. Next morning was Monday and I was expected at the local high school since I actually did want a future, despite all evidence to the contrary. This was a second chance and I wasn't going to mess up. Dad wasn't here to drag me down. Maybe I could try this "normal" gig this round...


	3. Fuck, I'm out of here

Eden Minerva High School has the same uncomfortable air as you'd expect from other high schools. It comes from the rampant sexual tension of teenagers and all the drama that comes with it. But Eden's was tenser, almost electrified. I immediately noticed everything was bizarre the moment I stepped in.

The kids were the first giveaway. There were two main groups at this school and everybody knew it. I had unknowingly walked onto the set of High School Musical: Everything Has Been Fucked Up.

There were the little goody two-shoes - who wore white, gold, and blue, who had blond-white hair, who walked as if they had redwood trees stuck right between their ass cheeks. Their stares were cold and calculating. They probably already pinned me as a member of the other group, which insulted me a bit. I don't like labels. Especially when they're pinned on me.

And then there was the other group - the "misunderstood" ones. They sort of appealed to me at first, but I didn't like how they looked at me. Hungrily, almost. Very creepy. They wore red, bronze, and black. They carried themselves like they owned the place, which reminded me of Prince.

There was a very clear divide between the two groups. They both stuck to a side and they weren't moving from it. Thankfully, the route to the office appeared to be neutral ground. I walked along it, keeping my outward appearance looking indifferent. But inside, I couldn't help but be unnerved. I picked up my schedule from the office aide (who was clearly a goody. Ugh, I feel like such a hypocrite with all these labels, but that's how it was at Eden. Two main labels trying to push the other out). I looked over the schedule.

It read:

_"Period 0: Unscheduled_  
_Period 1: AP English Language_  
_Period 2: ACC Biology_  
_Period 3: Lunch_  
_Period 4: Graphic Design & Printmaking 3-4_  
_Period 5: AP World History_  
_Period 6: Biblical Literature_  
_Period 7: Archery"_

I raised my eyebrows at the class choices. I liked the classes, but it creeped me out.

No one had asked me what classes I wanted. I had assumed that I'd be forced to go through more and more introductory bullshit, learning each class and its requirements before finally choosing my classes with the "help" of a councilor. That was the second sign that this school had something distinctly...different about it. Archery was a third sign.

Archery is pretty rare these days. Can't really blame the world for forgetting such a beautiful sport, what with guns being a bit more effective. But archery is something quieter - just a snap of the bow string and the arrow is launched.

Archery's also a form of attack. It's long range attack - obviously, I don't need to go into too much detail to explain that. With tensions this thick, why would any sane adult keep a program like this in place? That's like asking for conflict.

I made my way to the library since my 0 period was unscheduled. It was in the center of the school in a wooden building. I put my hand on the glass door and pushed, letting myself in quietly. The library's collection was huge - felt like I was in some Doctor Who shit and everything was bigger on the inside than the outside. I looked around the shelves, reading book titles as I walked. I did my best to make my steps quiet, but my boots made that hard. Thick rubber soles do that to a girl.

I felt the spine of an old looking book, pulling it out. The title had been rubbed off the spine, but I could still see it on the front of the book. "The Holy Bible, 1611 Edition".

The Bible's always fascinated the hell out of me. It was the foundation for several cultures, several societies. People used it to justify their bad actions and blame their good actions on it. How did such a book command such power over around a quarter of the people on Earth?

I opened to a random page and sat down. Wasn't like I had anything better to do anyways, right?

Written in some old version of Times New Roman font was this,

_"And I saw when the Lamb opened one of the seals, and I heard, as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts saying, Come and see._

_And I saw, and behold a white horse: and he that sat on him had a bow; and a crown was given unto him: and he went forth conquering, and to conquer."_

"You're sure that he hasn't been sulking around in here, Azzy?"

"I would have seen Wayne enter, Mr. Stallion. And please don't call me that, it makes me sound like a teenager."

"Old man, don't be proud of your age."

"I've lived this long. Why shouldn't I be proud?"

"Because you're not on the front with the rest of your people."

Truth? First thought in my head was, _"What the fuck, we're not in a war, what are they talking about?"_ Curious, I got up and followed the two voices. I hid behind a bookshelf, looking at the two.

One was a middle aged man, looked around the same age as my dad (who was 52 last time I saw him. Though, he's probably died of liver failure by now). He had the white hair of the angels and he kept it long and down his back like he was that creepy guy in the suit from Yu Gi Oh. He wore glasses and had them slid down on his nose bridge in a classic librarian stand by. I call that look, "Tired Librarian who has had it up to here with these Disrespectful Teenagers".

Said disrespectful teenager I could only see from the back. He was leaner than most guys I had seen on campus. I couldn't tell which group he belonged to - too relaxed and proud to be an goodie and being a trouble child didn't seem to fit him, even if he did sort of look the part. His skin was almost the same tan as Wayne's, but it was a bit lighter. Black spiky hair, held up by gell to make him always look like he'd just gone through a wind tunnel almost unscathed. He wore a grey shirt with a purple symbol on the side along with black jeans. It matched Wayne's. Wayne had the same symbol on his hoodie, on the left shoulder, in black.

"I help them in other ways," the Tired Librarian replied curtly, as if he had this argument with someone else recently.

"Heh. Sure, Azzy. Say what you want. But we all know how the cookies are gonna crumble...now tell me. Where's Wayne?" Mr. Stallion replied, smirking as he slid his sunglasses down his face like he was some kind of hotshot.

"Probably licking his wounds from yesterday," I cut in, taking the Bible with me like I was going to check it out. Might as well. Mr. Stallion looked at me like I was a cat that just walked into a dogfight - some crazy thing that just walked into a conflict that was going to get it killed, basically. Tired Librarian looked concerned.

He asked, "Did something occur this Sunday? Is Wayne alright?"

"He got in a fight with these three big guys. Least twice his size. Lucky they threw him into me when they tossed him at the glass door of the shopping center. Glass would've been real nasty to deal with," I replied, "I make a much better landing surface. I cut in, which he did not care for at all -"

"He's like that," Mr. Stallion replied, "My little brother has always leapt off cliffs before using that thing between his ears."

"I don't know how things are run in this town, but I wasn't gonna let him face them on his own. His knuckles were already bleeding really bad, like he'd been punching a wall. 'Sides, I needed some stress relief. Figured doing some noble fighting for once would be better than letting it stew," I replied, "I took down a guy, Wayne took down a guy. The third ran. Probably needed to change his pants. Your brother's a real fireball. Never seen anything like it."

"I could give you tickets to my gun show. Name's Seth Stallion," Seth replied, smirking at me.

I smirked back and replied, "I would, but it doesn't look like there's much to see. My name is Eve Bain. If it wasn't obvious, I'm new here."

"Ah. So you are the new student Principal Charlyn said to keep an eye out for. I am Azrael Valley. Please do not call me Mr. Valley. I prefer to keep on first name basis with students here, to try to get to know them better," Azrael replied.

"Yeah, because they get picked off all the time. Little cans on a fence, getting shot down," Seth added, "Though, if you really did help Wayne out, you'll last longer than others."

"What do you mean? Is there something going on here?" I asked, curious.

"You'll see," Azrael cut Seth off, giving him a scolding look, "Just be sure to keep safe. The tension between students here has been known to escalate. You'll be fine."

"...alright. Hey, do you know where room 444 is?" I asked, "I've got AP English Literature there for my first period."

"That is my class. You're welcome to walk with me there when zero period ends," he replied, smiling softly my way.

"Sounds good to me, teach," I replied.

Seth muttered, "Teacher's pet." I socked him in the shoulder, scowling as he didn't even flinch. He was made of tougher stuff than I thought he was. Or he had the self control not to show pain. Both hinted at a backstory very similar to my own.

Before I could say anything, the bell rang. Damn, time flew fast. Azrael stood from his chair and got out from behind his desk. He was tall and his white coat fluttered behind him like a bunch of feathers tied together. I left the Bible on the counter, leaving it behind as I followed him out the library. I turned back and gave Seth a little two finger wave before slipping out the library doors.

Walking with Azrael was awkward, to say the least. Something about him made me extremely uncomfortable. It was like he wasn't what he said he was or seemed to be. I just choked the feeling back, shoving my hands in my jacket pockets because Iowa's a lot colder than California. California winter was like Iowa's spring. So Iowa's fall was a bit of a change for me, but I liked the cold better than the heat. Warmer clothes meant more to hide behind.

Once we got to the class, I picked the seat all the way to the left up front. Right by the window, where I could stare out in case of boredom. Which eventually ended up happening due to the classic introductory class.

_Hello, this is an Advanced Placement English class and as such I expect, bluh bluh bluh, I am Azrael Valley, but call me Azrael, bluh bluh bluh, these are the rules to my classroom, bluh bluh bluh._

So I looked out the window and I saw something interesting. Eight teenagers, divided into lines of four, having a standoff outside. The cliques were easy to distinguish - goodies on the left, bad boys on the right. First, the two groups exploded into fist fighting, sloppily trying to put each other down. Then, one of the bad boys pulled out something weird...looked like a knife, but it glowed red. He stabbed the knife into the goodie he was fighting, but then another goodie pulled out a small gun and shot glowing blue...things! They were most definitely things being shot, but by all that's sacred to teenagers, they sure as hell weren't bullets.

I raised my hand. When Azrael called on me, I asked if I could go to the bathroom. He nodded and said yes. I walked out the classroom and I bolted down the stairs, finding my way outside with little difficulty. I ran over to the kid on the ground, the first goodie that was stabbed, seeing he was still alive. I picked him up, trying to drag him away from the scene and hopefully to the nurse's office. He muttered, "No...put me down...I die with my brethren."

"Just what the fuck is going on here?" I muttered, "You sound brainwashed, like a robot or a zombie almost."

"No...my brethren and I fight a just battle against those impure," he paused to cough out blood. I sighed, ripping the left sleeve off of my shirt and pressing it to his knife wound. "You...are still pure. Take my bow."

"Buddy, I don't see any ribbons on you. Didn't know you were the type," I replied, trying to keep the mood light, "C'mon. Stop talking like you're going to die."

"I am...there is no cure for the weapons of Hell. Death is the only way I can escape their burns...my bow is in my jacket pocket, left side...fight for me, fight for peace...fight for the Balance," he rasped. I looked up at his face for the first time, seeing the pleading look in his blue eyes and on his baby face. Fuck, he was just a kid.

I whispered softly, "I will. Just...don't die on me, kiddo. We can fight together, just stay with me." I got out my phone with my free hand, dialling in 911. All I got in return was static, which caused me to panic a bit. What place did not have 911? What the fuck had I gotten myself into?

That's when the big guy came.

Tall and lean, dressed in all black. Wore a skull-like mask, white as bone. He carried two weapons on him, both glowing with this pale green and dark purple aura. They were too long to be knives, too long to be daggers, and too short to be proper swords. Hilt was all weird too - like they were scythes that he just cut off most of the staff of. They opened with a click, revealing that was exactly what they were. He charged into the fray, separating the two sides again.

I scrambled, holding my ripped sleeve to the kid's wound as I looked for the bow he kept wanting me to take. A look up at his face made my heart sink - the kid looked dead. I checked for a pulse and got nothing in return. I stifled back a sniffle and closed his blue eyes, making him look like he was asleep. I whispered, "Get some rest, kiddo."

I could hear the conflict continue behind me. That big guy was holding his own, that was for sure. I opened the kid's jacket, going right for the pocket he had described. I pulled out a slim white rod, slightly curved like the handle of a bow and the size of a pen. My thumb clicked against a groove and the rod extended into a bow. Glistening white metal with a blue glowing string of energy. I touched it and an arrow of blue energy formed between my fingers. I let go and it dissipated back into the string. The blue was slowly turning purple, which was pretty fucking weird.

I looked back at the fight. Big guy didn't need my help - he was an artist out there, flowing from hit to hit like liquid mercury. I slid my thumb against the groove again and the bow went back to being a rod.

I turned and ran back to class. This was all too fucking weird.


	4. Can't Go Back

I was pretty much distracted all day after that event. Who the hell gave these kids advanced weapon technology and thought it was a good idea? Who the hell even came up with this stuff? Why the hell am I still going through these classes and not getting the fuck out of here?

Well, I can answer that last one.

I had a job to do now. Unlike before, I had a purpose: keep an eye on Prince's step-kids. So far, according to the dossiers that had been sent to my phone, I had met two.

Wayne and Seth. And if their behavior spoke anything, it's that they'd been abused in the past. Like me. So this put me at a dilemma. See, in all good conscience, if it had been Prince who had abused them, I couldn't help out Prince anymore because that'd be like my dad sending someone to spy on me. And I'd be pissed at the spy. Like "ready to kill" pissed.

So the plan changed a bit. I needed more information before continuing on this path. I could just be painting my own history on them based upon a few details and assumptions.

But how the fuck was I going to get the information I needed? Asking Wayne would be like asking a wall - unproductive and idiotic. Seth might lead up to some answers though...and I did sort of want to see him again. For reasons. Besides, it was a small town, so the chances of running into him or any of his siblings was pretty damn high.

Actually, later that day, during my 6th period (it's Archery, just to remind you), I got a call slip. The teacher (another tall blonde woman, gave her name as Mrs. Michaels) had been giving a rather boring lecture on archery safety that had been filled with common sense. Then, there was a knock on the door, which was somewhere behind me. We all spun around, one kid getting up to open the door. In came a girl, around a year younger than me, walked right into the classroom with the gait of a panther.

She was a Stallion - had the symbol on her right pant leg and the same tan skin. Her hair was black with purple and gold highlights, flowing back and then hitting her back again with every step she took towards Ms. Michaels. She wore a maroon shirt and black pants.

She handed the slip to Ms. Michaels with all the grace of a practiced dignitary. She stood, turning around to face us as she waited. She studied me, looking for something. She seemed a bit surprised that I met her stare evenly.

"Ms. Bain, please accompany Ms. Stallion to the principal's office," Mrs. Michaels replied dryly. Spoke like she was sending me to my death. I shrugged off her tone and stood up, grabbing my stuff. The Stallion girl seemed a bit surprised that I came up so obediently.

I knew then and I know now when to pick fights. Remember that.

So, like I was saying, I got up and followed her out of the room. Dead silence as we walked through the halls, you know besides the occasional squeaks of my boots on the tile from when I didn't lift my feet up all the way. So, me being the charmful chatty person that I am, I decided to break the ice in a perfectly friendly manner.

"Do you always have the stick up your ass or is it just there when you're being Miss Errand Girl for the principal?"

She slid me a dry look, asking stiffly, "Why do you ask?"

"Back in the classroom, you walked in like you owned the place. Now you're doing the little soldier trot. Dear God, I think your knees right now could juggle a ball you're lifting them up so high," I joked a bit, smirking a bit, "Relax. If anything, the little soldier girl impersonation is just making me laugh rather than respect you."

"I'm not looking for your respect. I don't need it when I can kick your ass down the block," she smirked back. She lost the soldier trot, finally going back to the panther gait. Much better.

"There we go, that's how we socialize correctly. Not like I have much experience," I replied, shrugging as I walked with her, "You and your siblings don't talk to others much, do you?"

"It's for the best. Around here, it's hard to stay yourself. We kept to ourselves to avoid getting more caught up in this big gang war than we want to be," she replied.

I frowned, tilting my head curiously, "You know, everyone's mentioned tensions and junk. Seth said it was weird that I survived this long."

"Most of the town is caught up in this sort of gang war. Think Outsiders," she replied, "They even have names for the sides. Angels and demons."

"How do you stay off sides? I'm not much of a team player. Think of me as a broke female Tony Stark without the ass chasing," I said a bit jokingly.

"You're either on one of three sides. Angel, demon, or...something in between," she replied cryptically as we reached the door with the words, "Principal's Office" painted onto the glass window of the door. Her hand flicked out like a switchblade, grasping the door with a mix of gentleness and strength. She twisted it open with practiced grace, flicking her free hand in a motion that said, "Move it, storytime's over."

Bit my tongue, walked in. Sat down in the offered chair. Old man sat at the principal's desk, looking at me over a pair of tan rimmed glasses. No rim on the top. He regarded me with a sense of superiority, like I was just a pawn in his game. "So you are our new student," he drawled, his voice containing a Texan accent's slowness, but a German one's sharp pronunciation, "Franklyn, get her some water. She looks tense."

"I'm always this tense," I replied before the Stallion girl could move, "Fine. I am fine." I cursed the shakiness in my voice.

"You are watching me like I am pointing a gun at you," he replied, "Relax. I am not one of the adults who have been taking part of the ridiculous conflict that plagues our town. I am Principal Charlyn. Do you wonder why I called you here?"

"I doubt it's because I have a sterling record attached to my name," I replied sarcastically, crossing my arms.

Principal Charlyn snorted at me, pushing up his glasses with his wrinkled middle finger while curling his pointer and thumb together and holding the rest straight. He replied, "Ms. Bain, I assure you, we have students here with worse records than you. Your history of violence and theft only gives you a leg up in survival, not an obstacle in moving up in life."

"So what am I here for?" I asked.

"There is to be a school function tonight at our local sports coliseum, the Gilded Crucible. It is not optional. Am I clear?"

"Crystal, sir. However, I'm not dressing up for this."

"There will be clothes provided there. No, it is not a formal function. Simply an introductory one. We hold one for each new student that comes to our school."

"Huh. Weird. Where's this Crucible?"

"It is in the center of town. If you look behind me, you will be able to see it through the window."

I leaned in the chair to the right, looking beyond Principal Charlyn. I could see a dull golden metal glowing in the sun over the roofs of the various buildings. I nodded, "I see it."

"Good. Be there at 7 PM tonight. There are no acceptable excuses for not attending. Is that understood?"

"Yes."

"Good. Dismissed."

* * *

The Gilded Crucible was built ten years before either the Stallions or I got to Wildeden. It was a rectangular stadium that merged Roman architecture and modern materials. Columns of air-brushed gold metal, all supporting at least four rows of 100 seats on each level. It had been designed by some art student from Eden High School and submitted to a contest. The owners of the Crucible were a Kione "Wicked K" Wilkinson and a Crevon Chancellor. Both did the announcing at each event held at the Gilded Crucible, which resulted in some hysterical bicker between the two as they were very different people.

I got there, still wearing the clothes I had worn to school that day. I had my hands stuffed in my jacket pockets, my left hand curled around the bow that kid had given me.

Okay, I'll admit it - I was jumpy, I was nervous, I was scared as a rabbit going into a wolves' den. Everything was too quiet. Way too quiet. I'm a city girl at heart - bustling cars, wild police sirens, drunken singing on the corner, and sounds of that sort had been my lullaby since I was born. Silence meant something was prowling, that something or someone wasn't busy being an idiot and was actually concentrating on doing something. And with my luck, that something usually tended to be bad.

I quickened my pace, seeing Wayne standing at a gate. He spotted me and pointed me towards a smaller gate. I nodded my thanks, jogging over to the gate. I entered the gate, following the hallway to a small room. The room was grey and bare, only containing a table and a door.

On the table was a set of body armor and a gas mask (classic kind, just a small bubble that went over the mouth and nose with the rebreathers built on the sides. Goggles were attached to the top). The armor was clothe, flexible. Colored grey. I remembered Principal Charlyn saying something about clothing being provided here. I shut the door behind me with my foot, changing into the body armor. I slid on the gask mask, looking through the goggles' clear plastic. I grabbed my bow, keeping it in my hand as I opened the door.

The opening notes of "Breath of Life" by Florence and the Machines greeted me from inside the stadium as I stepped into it, my boots smushing the grass blades of the field.

In front of me were hundreds of eyes staring me down. Angels on the right, demons on the left.

Over the music, the speakers blared with the words, "Welcome folks to this year's Distribution Ceremony! I'm Wicked K and my partner and I will be announcing this bloody good event! I do believe that it is time to rrrrrrrumble!"


	5. Distribution, Do I Look Like Groceries?

"New girl is still standing there, you would've thought that she'd choose by now, don't you think so, Chancellor?"

"I quite understand her hesitation. This is a rather important decision, one that will affect her life here in our lovely Wildeden."

"Eh, I suppose so. Why don't we ask her?"

"AN EXPLANATION WOULD BE FUCKING MARVELOUS, YOU OUTRAGEOUSLY FAKE ENGLISHMEN!" I yelled up at the loud speakers, taking out my bow and extending it. I moved as the mob of people surrounded me, forcing me into the center of the arena. I pulled my bow back, forming an arrow as I spun around to keep my eyes on every little threat around me. The kids seemed brainwashed, standing there with empty eyes. They didn't have gas masks like I did - no rebreathers to filter out the air.

"Such manners! We shouldn't tell her a thing, K," Chancellor's voice scolded through the loudspeakers.

"As always, my friend, I disagree. This, child, is the Distribution ceremony. You are going to be indicted into one of three sides."

"I only see two. Angels and demons."

"Ooh, smart girl, you talked to people before coming in! The third side is a very rare opportunity. It's more likely that you'll die from the angels and demons tearing you apart before the third side takes you. Chancellor, do you remember that one girl, the feisty redhead with the killer pencils?"

"I do believe her name was Alison. Remember Sara?"

"Oh dear lord, her skin is currently hanging on some demon's wall. Poor thing."

I growled, "I choose the third."

"What was that? We can't hear you, dear," Wicked K asked. I could've backed down, could've took it easy by choosing a side.

But I didn't. An easy life isn't worth living.

"I CHOOSE THE THIRD," I screamed, shooting my arrow. I shot a big burly demon right in the eye, causing him to screech. I ran right at him, climbing up him and standing up on his shoulders. I used his massive height as a vantage point. I shot three more before the mob seemed to wake up from its trance. They all moved, charging at me with the most primal and pissed off faces I've ever seen. I dodged, using the ends of my bow as knives. Stabbed two obstacles, pulled out and moved through the path I made. I made a pile of bodies, panting as I held my position.

This worked for a while. But more and more seemed to flood in, all roaring at me. Had hands on my neck, fingers curling into the soft flesh of my lymph nodes. Looked like I was finally getting the death I wanted and didn't get back in San Francisco.

I heard a bullet. Loud crack, someone shot the demon strangling me. I kicked the body off of me, looking around. I spotted them.

There was four new players. Three were carving a path, one was giving support from the rear with two pistols. Each were dressed in colors of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

Red had the biggest sword I had ever seen. It was as long as he was tall. Glowed red-orange, like a cool flame. Stained with the blood of the kids he was cutting down, the blade seemed to dance with him. Slash, hack, slash, hackity, hack, hack, slash.

White was the one with pistols. He seemed to be absolutely conquering kids with those pistols, shooting kids right between the eyes or taking out their legs. I could hear him snickering as I got up, trying to cut my own path to the four. It was an impulse - I wasn't thinking anymore, I was just scrambling like mad for anything that could save my ass.

Black had whips. She was more of a dancer than Red, twirling. But it wasn't twirling for show - there was meaning, there was purpose, there was a reason with every strike of the whip. The whips were bladed, gold glowing as the whips absolutely melted through people.

When I reached them, I fell to my knees out of exhaustion in front of the forth one. I looked up and there was Bone Face. From when the angel kid died. The guy that moved like liquid mercury, with short scythes that glowed pale green and bright purple.

I smiled up at him and said the cleverest thing I could've at the time, considering the amount of adrenaline in my system. Add that with exhaustion and try to be witty. I dare you.

"You always have the best timing, Boner Man," I grinned before falling on my face. The world just went black as I closed my eyes. Fuck, the grass poked me in the eye. That stung like a bitch.


End file.
